The Pureblood Experiment
by LittleMissMarvel
Summary: "Who's there?" Melody Cooper wasn't sure how she had become involved in this. "Is she scared?" She wasn't sure how she was supposed to save everyone, to end it. "Shall we eat her?" And quite frankly, she wasn't sure if she was going to make it out alive.


**The beginning part of the chapter is an extract from later in the story, just so none of you get confused. Also, while this story will contain some romance, it is primarily an action and adventure story. **

**Dislaimer: I only own the things you don't recognise, like Melody.**

"Who's there?!" I cry, spinning from left to right, trying to see something, anything, in the thick darkness.

A cackling laughter breaks through the silence like a knife, the sound like nails on a black board to my ears. "Is she scared?" a sing-song voice calls.

"Wh-who are you?" I try once more, my voice shaking along with the rest of my body.

"Am I over here?" the voice howls from my left, "Or am I over there?" it calls from the opposite side of the room.

Sobs rack through my body, leaving me breathless, and the laughter does not stop or pause. The sound of water dripping onto the cold stone floor suddenly adds to the noise of the room, making my head pound and the darkened room spin.

"Please!" I shriek desperately, my hands reaching up to grab at my hair, needing something to remind me it was actually happening.

The cackling only becomes louder, and the thing screeches, "She is scared, she is scared!"

I feel my knees give way from underneath me, and the icy chill of the floor smack against them. My hands are stilling pulling at my hair, effectively removing it from the pony-tail it was in, and a warm substance trickles from the ceiling onto my hands. Within seconds I realise that it is the water I heard not seconds ago, and that it was not in fact water, but blood.

"WHERE ARE YOU?!" I scream as loud as I can, clumps of hair coming off in my hands as I tear at my head.

"What shall we do?" cries the disembodied voice, echoing around my personal hell. "Shall we eat her? Shall we, shall we?"

Something bites at my index finger, an excruciating pain ripping through my body. More blood flows onto my top, and this time, I realise sickly, its mine. In the back of my mind, I wonder briefly how this must look to someone else. A teenage girl collapsed in a dungeon, with blood covering her clothes and clumps of hair in her hands.

"URGH!" the voice spits, "You're not nice! Nope, nope, nope! You're no good!"

"Please, please," is all I can murmur, energy draining from me almost as fast as the blood.

"Please? PLEASE?! You comes here alone! You comes here, you do's! Your fault, all your fault!"

And it begins to cackle once more. The already black surroundings begin to spin out of control, and yet through the spinning, I can see the room more clearly.

And that's when I see it. In the very corner of the room, under what I assume to be an alcove, standing with a slight hunch, there is a figure.

The walk to Professor Dumbledore's office is a long one. Not only does it include passing numerous classrooms, meaning numerous situations to humiliate myself, but passing a large number of portraits, who apparently savour these few moments were students have to partake in what they call the 'Walk of Shame.'

The stone gargoyles that guard Dumbledore's office are positioned in a supposedly intimidating manner, backs hunched and mouths open, presenting their sharpened teeth. As I grow closer, the one on the right straightens up, its mouth closing and eyes looking at me questioningly.

"Password?" it asks in monotone.

I quickly rack my brain, trying to remember what Professor Sprout had told me to say to these stone guards. After heavy thought for at least ten seconds, I finally remember.

"Chocolate Frog Cards."

The gargoyle does an odd sort of bow and moves out of my way. Not entirely sure how to respond, I do my own sort of odd curtsey in return and hurry past, sure that I had just embarrassed myself to a whole new audience.

At the top of the spiral staircase stood a wooden door, cracked open ever so slightly. I walk across the short landing to the door, and am just about to knock when a voice stops me.

"It's impossible Albus!"

"You know not the meaning of the word, my friend. Anyhow, I am merely suggesting that a small party be sent to make sure and to put any doubt out of this old man's feeble mind," the Professor defends, a slight quiver in his voice.

"Still, the chances of the claims being true are less than one in four hundred."

"He's right, Albus," a new, deeper voice sounds.

"All I ask," The Professor begins once more, "is that you consider the evidence-"

"What evidence?" the first man interrupts.

"I have already explained-"

"Gentlemen, I think you would like to know that this conversation is no longer private."

My heart seems to stop at that, and before I can so much as lift a foot, a large hand appears from behind the door and grabs me roughly by the shoulder, pulling my into the room.

"I didn't mean to, Professor, I swear!" I blurt out before I can stop myself.

Professor Dumbledore is accompanied by two men and one woman, the latter of who was clearly silent throughout the men's debate. One man is dressed in a floor-length, midnight blue cloak, with dark skin and a tooth-earring. He looks to be in his twenties, unlike the other man, who has too many scars to count and a long, dark trench-coat. The woman is dressed in a long, green cloak.

Professor Dumbledore chuckles lightly at my outburst and steps around his large, wooden desk to stand in front of me. He clasps his hands together and folds them on his lap.

"Miss Cooper, I would think it best that you just tell us what you heard. It would save us an awful lot of trouble."

"I-I…"

"On with it, girl!" the man in the trench-coat barks.

"Now, now Alastor," Professor Dumbledore chastises.

I take a deep, steadying breath and fix my gaze on the floor. The chances of me being able to talk, keep my cool and look at the other occupants of the room was incredibly low.

"I heard you… arguing?" I phrase it more as a question, mainly because I am genuinely curious for what they were arguing about.

Professor Dumbledore nods his head thoughtfully, and unclasps his old hands to stroke his long beard. "Yes, I do suppose that is all you heard."

"You do suppo- What in the name of Merlin going on here?" I ask loudly, fervently looking around for some sort of answer.

The man, apparently Alastor, marches forward and pokes me harshly in the chest. "You watch your tone, girly!"

"Alastor!" the woman shouts loudly, and barges forward to push him away from me. "For Goodness' sake, she is just a child! Calm down, you giant idiot!"

Alastor moves away like a petulant child scorned. "Yes, well, she should have better manners," he mumbles sulkily.

All the while, Dumbledore is still stroking his massive white beard. After Alastor had brushed down his trench-coat and my chest had stopped hurting from his hard poke, Dumbledore seems to spring back into life.

"I believe I have come to a solution, my friends."

I look between the people, hoping to see them just as confused as I feel. Of course, nothing seems to go my way and in a surprising turn of events, they all seem to be gazing at me with something atone to wonder in their eyes.

"Do you really think-?"

"I do," Professor Dumbledore nods thoughtfully.

"But she's just a child," the woman states once more, a look of indignation on her pale face.

"I understand that, but I believe with the right training-"

"Excuse me!" I shout loudly, "Would anyone care to tell me what on Earth is going on?!"

Professor Dumbledore steps forward and is immediately flanked by the other people in the room. The image is a sight to behold, let me tell you that.

"Let me ask you something, Melody," Professor Dumbledore begins seriously.

A little shocked by the use of my first name, my mind takes several seconds to remember that he said other words.

"Uh huh," is all I can get out.

Professor Dumbledore claps his hands together and signals for the others to leave the room. They all leave quickly, with this Alastor scowling at me as he passes. I quickly wonder whether I should be insulted, and then let it pass considering the fact it looks like that scowl is a permanent fixture on his face.

"Professor," I begin once they have left, "please can you tell me what is going on?"

"Of course, Miss Cooper," he walks behind his desk once more and takes a seat, gesturing for me to do the same, which I do. "What do you know about the Order of the Pheonix?"

A tense silence falls on the room. I'm not quite sure what to say and I voice that.

"I-I'm not entirely sure what you are talking about, Professor."

"My dear, you are a bright girl, which your teachers have made me aware of."

"Not as bright as Lily Evans," I mumble to myself.

Professor Dumbledore chuckles lightly and then regains his composure. "As I was saying, you are a bright girl and a Gryffindor no less. I am sure you have heard the so-named Marauders discussing it, at least."

I feel a light blush arise on my cheeks and I nod my head unsteadily, quite ashamed to have been caught out by the Headmaster.

"What you heard, my dear," Dumbledore rises from his desk and collects a roll of parchment from the bookshelf behind him, "is the plans, or would-be plans, for a mission."

"A mission?" I ask after a moment.

"Yes," Professor Dumbledore nods.

"Alright," I begin, "but what does that have to do with me?"

Professor Dumbledore gazes at me with dead certainty, though certainty for what, I do not know.

"I believe that you are the best candidate for this particular mission."

Not for the first time that day, a stunned silence falls on the room. A number of profanities are running through my head, not to mention many things I could do to escape this office, many involving magic and a bucket of water.

"Melody," Professor Dumbledore breaks me from my plans, "I understand that you may be rather confused, but if you could say something, it would be greatly useful."

"Yep, yeah, I got that," I murmur dryly. I take a deep breath and finally say, "Why me?"

"Ah," he says with a hearty laugh. "Think of it as a happy coincidence, or fate, depending on your beliefs."

Okay, that's it.

"Okay, what is going on?!" I shout, although I'm not really angry at him. "I only came here because I chucked a baby Mandrake at Sirius Black! Couldn't you just slap me on my wrist and send me on my way?!"

"I'm sorry, my dear," Professor Dumbledore manages to get out once he had finished laughing, "But I actually do believe in fate, and I believe that you are the answer to our problems."

Cue the choir of angels.

"And what exactly are those problems?"

Professor Dumbledore seems hesitant to answer, and the constant twinkle in his eye dims slightly. "I think," he begins unsurely, "that it is probably best to wait for you to make up your mind before I disclose more information."

Sounds reasonable, I think to myself. "What can you tell me then?"

A few moments pass us by, with Professor Dumbledore looking as though he is thinking very hard about what information he can spare. "You shall be gone for quite a long time, and it will be dangerous, potentially very dangerous."

Fantastic.

**Please review! I would love to hear what you all think of it!**


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